


How Quickly The Night Changes

by heelnev



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital, Public Sex, but mustafa is still a Big Cutie, in which nev is Confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 17:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12137670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/pseuds/heelnev
Summary: The more that Neville thought about the situation he was currently in, the more confused he was. The less he understood just what the hell had come over him in that moment.





	How Quickly The Night Changes

**Author's Note:**

> I write Nev/Mustafa smut for the first time and it becomes my longest one-shot. Absolutely incredible.

The more that Neville thought about the situation he was currently in, the more confused he was. The less he understood just what the hell had come over him in that moment.

He hadn't even gone into the locker room with the intent to do anything like _that_. He was headed there like he always did every Monday night after his match on Raw so that he could shower and get dressed, and then he would promptly drive back to the hotel and get some rest. That night was no different than any other. He didn't expect it to take such a turn.

* * *

He remembered walking inside and spotting Mustafa straight away. He was distracted, searching through his bag for something to change into since he hadn't yet changed out of his attire. Neville couldn't help but smirk upon seeing him -- Mustafa was the one who he'd beaten that night. It made sense that he was rushing to leave, too ashamed to face the rest of the roster after suffering such a humiliating defeat.

Neville decided that, like the kind soul he was, he was going to rub the fact that he'd lost in his face, and he had sauntered towards Mustafa until he was at his side, leaning up against a locker. It started like all of their prior conversations -- that is to say, Neville was raving about how amazing he was all while Mustafa pretended he didn't hear him. Neville made sure to point out just how _amazing_ it felt to lock in the Rings of Saturn on him, just how damn good it felt to feel Mustafa tapping out on his arm and signalling to the referee that he had had enough.

Then, just as Neville decided that he'd had enough and was about to back off, something happened.

Mustafa had muttered something under his breath.

At first, Neville thought he was just hearing things. There was no way Mustafa would have said something like _that_ , would he? He didn't look like the type.

"Say that again, lad," Neville had demanded, noticing the blush on Mustafa's face. "Go on, don't be shy."

"I said..." He started as he sat down. "The Rings of Saturn felt good to me, too."

Neville's eyebrows raised, and he smirked again. He knew he hadn't misheard. So, that was the kind of stuff Mustafa was into? What an interesting thing to learn about his little rival. "You like submitting to the King, hmm?" He had taken a seat next to him.

Mustafa hadn't said anything in response. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Ali," Neville assured him. "Plenty of guys are into these kinds of things. I give you credit for being able to admit it, unlike the other peasants here."

As he spoke, he ended up making eye contact with Mustafa. Before, whenever Neville looked in his eyes, all he would see was passion. Drive. Ambition. Determination. This time was different. Now, he was seeing something else.

_Lust._

Neville wasn't stupid. He knew where this conversation was headed. He toyed with the idea of making a smart comment about how clearly aroused Mustafa was, but the truth was that he was the same way. Neville had always known that Mustafa was physically attractive, and he would be lying if he said that he didn't look forward to competing against him so that he had a chance to touch him.

Now, they were both alone. There was no one there in the locker room to stop them from acting out the scenes that had played out so many times before in their heads.

Mustafa had already submitted to Neville once that evening. It didn't look like he was opposed to doing it again, though this time in a very different setting with a much different context.

"How would you like it if I brought you to your knees one more time tonight?" Neville traced a finger along Mustafa's bicep, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He leaned in close, his hot breath against Mustafa's ear. "Just say the word, and I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Mustafa's tongue ran over his lower lip, and he had checked around the room one last time to make sure that they were truly alone before saying, "...P-Please, King."

As soon as he heard the word 'King', Neville stood up, grabbing him by the hand and pushing him back against the wall. He gave him a forceful kiss, his tongue slipping into Mustafa's mouth once his lips parted. Neville was pressed up against him, his thigh firmly resting against the front of his pants.

"Hmm, my sweet Prince..." Neville had said, feeling Mustafa growing hard under his touch. "You're getting excited for your King, huh? You like it when I touch you there?" One of Neville's hands slid down Mustafa's side, resting on his hip.

He had waited until Mustafa replied with a fervent nod before his hand slid over and rested over his erection, and he grabbed it through his attire. "And I bet you like it when I do this too, don't you?" He began to rub at him. "Go on, tell your King how much you're enjoying this..."

All that was able to escape Mustafa was a soft whimper, and Neville's eyebrows raised, an amused expression having now appeared on his face. "Ah, are you too shy?" He teased. "It's only you and me here, Ali. No one's gonna hear you. Only I will. Come on, now. Let me know how you're feeling."

Once he finished his sentence, Neville pressed his hand harder up against him, eliciting a small moan and causing Neville to smirk. "Good boy..." He cooed. "Keep it up. I want to hear more from you." He moved down to Mustafa's neck and gave it a few soft kisses, sucking at one spot.

"King..." Mustafa moaned a little louder that time, prompting Neville to suck harder, his hand moving faster.

Neville pulled away a moment later, admiring the mark that he'd left behind. He slowly ran his tongue over it. "Looks like you're gonna have to find a way to hide that before 205 tomorrow now, aren't you?" He moved over to the other side of Mustafa's neck. "And this one, too," he said before he chose a spot and began to suck there next.

Neville could tell that Mustafa was still trying to keep his voice as low as possible so as to not draw anyone's attention, so he bit down on the newest mark, his hand now squeezing him. He relished in the gasp that escaped his lips, and he squeezed him harder, alternating between rubbing and grabbing. "Ali, I already told you that there's no need for you to hold back. Be as loud as you want. Who gives a shit about who hears?"

"King, I-I..." Mustafa's breathing was growing more labored. "I-I'm gonna..."

"Do it." Neville pulled away from his neck, leaning forward until their foreheads were touching. "Come for your King. I want to hear more of those pretty noises of yours..."

Neville's stroking had become rougher and quicker, and it didn't take much longer for Mustafa to finally be pushed over the edge, the loud groan that Neville had been _dying_ to hear finally coming out, a content hum slipping from the King. Neville's rubbing gradually slowed down, coming to a complete halt once Mustafa had finally gathered himself and his breathing calmed.

He backed off at last, stepping away and chuckling as Mustafa slid down the wall and sat on the floor. "I told you that I could bring you down, Prince," he taunted. "That's twice in one night. I think this is a new record."

"I... I need to return the favor." Mustafa was reaching up to him, trying to grab the waistband of his trunks.

"Ah-ah, not now." Neville swatted away his hands, a devilish grin on his face. "Not when someone could walk in." He bent down and grabbed hold of his collar. "Wait until the show is over. Then come meet me in my hotel room. We'll finish up there. Understood?" He waited until Mustafa nodded before releasing him, moving back.

It was at that moment that the locker room door burst open, a few other members of the roster entering the room. Neville quirked his eyebrows at Mustafa before heading towards the showers. _The King has impeccable timing. No surprises there._

* * *

  _No one had heard a thing._ Neville mused to himself, licking his lips as he recalled the memory. _I told him no one would. He didn't want to believe me._

They had truly gotten away with it. Everyone else was busy preparing for their respective match or loitering in another part of the arena -- no one thought to go to the locker room to check and see what the King and the Prince were up to.

Neville remembered that not much else had happened at the arena once they had finished. Neville had gone to shower and struggled not to laugh as he listened to Mustafa trying to have a casual conversation with Cedric, as if he didn't just have a orgasm. _No one thought to ask why the hell he was on the floor when they first came in, or why he kept covering his neck with his hands. Christ, how inattentive_ **_are_ ** _these fools?_

Neville also remembered what happened once he'd checked in at the hotel after the show ended. He had sent a text to Mustafa telling him to not even bother getting his own room and to spend the night in his, sending along the room number with the message.

And then, once he'd arrived, Mustafa did exactly what he said he was going to do.

* * *

 “So, Ali…” Neville purred as the Prince sat on top of him, their clothes tossed aside and resting on the floor. “Tell me what you have planned.”

Mustafa pondered his first move for a moment, almost looking a little unsure of himself. This prompted Neville to reach up one of his hands, running a finger along his bare chest. “What? You don’t know? Huh, all that talk about returning the favor, and yet you’ve fallen silent when the time comes…”

“I _do_ know,” he retorted. “I’m just… not sure if it’s what you want.”

“You think I can’t handle whatever it is? I’m the King. I’m pretty certain I can take whatever you give to me.”

“If you say so.” Mustafa licked his lips. “So, I’m just wondering, have you gone all the way with a guy before?”

“Well, duh. Are you trying to say that you want to fuck me, lad?” His bluntness seemed to catch Mustafa off guard, and he smirked. “Well? Is that a yes?”

“I, well… Yeah.” He laughed a little nervously. “But only if you’re up for it.”

“Didn’t I just tell you that I’m willing to take whatever you plan on doing to me? Do it. That’s an order from your King.”

Musafa’s eyebrows raised. “How can I possibly say no to that?” He quickly scrambled off of Neville’s lap, going over to his bag and searching inside of it for a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Do you always keep those with you in case of a situation like this?” Neville asked once he’d found them and made his way back to the bed.

“You never know.” He shrugged.

Neville watched as Mustafa began to slick up his fingers, his gaze shifting to look up towards the ceiling. “What do you think your little buddies would say if they knew this was what you were getting up to?” He asked.

“I’m not sure how I would even begin to explain something like this. I dunno how they’d react.”

“If anyone asks where you were tonight, just tell them you were off fucking royalty. God, I’d _pay_ to see their faces if you said that,” Neville mused.

“ _You_ would…” Mustafa placed the bottle aside on the night table and positioned one of his fingers at Neville’s entrance. “Okay, you ready?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am before you finally get it? Goodness, Ali, it’s like you’re--” Neville was interrupted by one of Mustafa’s fingers slipping inside of him, and he gasped softly. His eyes fluttered shut when a second one entered, humming as they started to pump in and out. He gasped again when he felt them go deeper.

“You good?” Mustafa stopped his movements.

“Yes, yes, I'm fine, just keep doing what you're doing.” Neville motioned for him to continue, sighing as he felt a third finger enter along with the other two. This wasn't something he was normally into, and he was a little surprised by how much he was enjoying it. Mustafa was better than he thought he would be.

Mustafa eventually took his fingers out, prepping himself for what would come next, and Neville made a bit of a frustrated sound. “Ali, don't keep your King waiting--”

“Hush up.”

“What?” Neville’s eyes widened.

“We went at your pace before, and now we’re gonna go at _my_ pace. It’s only fair.” Mustafa leaned in to kiss him, smiling softly. “So hush.”

Neville couldn't believe that he'd just been told off like that. He was about to make a comment about how Mustafa needed to learn his place, that this was the _King_ he was talking to, but Mustafa had suddenly entered him, causing a moan to escape instead. Whatever insults he had planned on unleashing would have to wait until later.

Mustafa adjusted himself so that he was fully seated in him, and he began to slowly thrust in and out. Neville hands rose to rest on his shoulders, squeezing them tighter at each jolt of pleasure he felt. “H-Harder.” He breathed out before internally scolding himself for speaking again so soon after he’d been told not to.

That didn’t matter, apparently, as Mustafa did as Neville wished and thrust harder into him, causing Neville to groan and dig his fingernails into his shoulders. He bent down to whisper in Neville’s ear, biting his earlobe as he said, “I can let that one slide.”

“Fuck…” Neville was feeling a bit overwhelmed. It had been far too damn long since anyone had done this to him last, and something about the fact that _Mustafa_ was the one doing it excited him far more than it probably should have.

He continued with this pace, moving from Neville’s ear to his lips and kissing him passionately. “What’s gotten into you, Ali?... Huh?” Neville said once he’d pulled away, desperately trying to remain in control in some capacity despite being completely at Mustafa’s mercy, growing closer and closer to coming with each thrust. “You never struck me as the type to be rough…”

Mustafa smiled down at him and gave him another kiss. “I’m usually not.” A hand snaked down and grabbed hold of Neville’s length, and he began to slowly jerk him off. “But I’m dealing with the _King_ here. I had to change things up.”

“Jesus, Ali…” Neville moaned, letting out a few small whimpers as both Mustafa’s hand and thrusts sped up. At that moment, one of his thrusts hit that _one_ spot, and he yelled, clenching around him before he finally came, his head thrown back as he spilled all over his hand. He could feel that his face was hot, and he slowly let out a breath once he had finished.

It was a few short moments afterwards that Mustafa came as well with a loud groan, the sound of it pleasing Neville for the second time that night. He rested his head down on his chest, taking a moment to gather himself before he pulled out.

Neville watched as he cleaned off his hand, waiting until he was finished and lying next to him to say, “You’re good, Prince… _Very_ good. If I’d known, I would have spoken to you sooner.”

Mustafa snorted and placed a kiss on the tip of Neville’s nose. “High praise from the King. I’m honored.”

* * *

The time was now 5 AM. The room was gradually growing brighter, and Neville was wide awake. He knew that he still had some time before he needed to get up, but he couldn’t bring himself to fall back asleep. He was too damn confused.

What in the world had come over him? The night was like any other and had nothing particularly special about it. What was it about Mustafa admitting that he liked being submitted that caused Neville to jump on him like that, that led to the two of them messing around in his hotel room? It was amazing, honestly, just how quickly it all happened.

Neville looked over to his right, spotting Mustafa sleeping peacefully and facing away from him. Careful not to wake him, Neville reached over a hand, gently moving some of his hair away and getting a good look at his neck and the marks he’d left. Those plus the scratches on his shoulders almost made Neville feel bad. _He’s gonna have to deal with those later._ He thought. _I wonder if anyone will give him shit for it… Hope they don’t pester him_ **_too_ ** _much._

Neville looked away and back towards the ceiling. Why did he suddenly care so much about him? Just a few hours ago, Neville couldn’t stand him. He’d been submitting him in front of thousands of people in attendance and millions watching from home. Now, after they’d spent a night together, he found himself concerned, hoping that people would just leave Mustafa the hell alone for once instead of picking on him and asking for details. _This is fucking nuts… What does it mean…_

Then, Neville heard the sounds of Mustafa mumbling to himself in his sleep. He watched as he tossed over, his head resting on Neville’s shoulder and an arm on his chest. Neville’s eyebrows rose at the gesture, and for a moment he was stumped on what to do. Should he try to move him and risk waking him up? What if a suddenly awakened Mustafa was rude and nothing like his usual easygoing self?

After staring at his sleeping face for a little while, however, Neville decided against doing that. He found himself smirking softly, and he brought a hand up to his hair, stroking it lightly as he shut his eyes and tried falling back asleep, arguably more comfortable now.

Whatever the _fuck_ was going on, it could wait until later.


End file.
